


First Hints of Warmth

by DopeyTheDwarf



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Post-Volume 6 (RWBY), Volume 7 prediction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 18:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17667926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DopeyTheDwarf/pseuds/DopeyTheDwarf
Summary: The feeling of stares follow Blake even when in the comforts of their room. Whenever she closes her eyes, all she sees are the hate-filled gazes, and when her brain figures that they are not enough of a warning to get her hiding again, the whispers bubble from the depths of her memories.“Disgusting!”Each word is a sword through her ribs…“Lowlife!”And they twist and twist until the pain…“Animal!”Turns into numbness.





	First Hints of Warmth

Blake has been curled in bed for hours now, but sleep is not coming tonight. She is too jittery and wired, every tiny sound making her ill with fear. The whispers and stares have been relentless ever since they arrived in Atlas, and it has taken all of her courage to keep standing tall when all she had wanted since is to go back to the shadows.

The feeling of stares follow her even when in the comforts of their room. Whenever she closes her eyes, all she sees are the hate-filled gazes, and when her brain figures that they are not enough of a warning to get her hiding again, the whispers bubble from the depths of her memories.

__“Disgusting!”_ _

Each word is a sword through her ribs…

__“Lowlife!”_ _

And they twist and twist until the pain…

__“Animal!”_ _

Turns into numbness.

Blake bolts upright then. Her mind is much too loud, and body tenses accordingly, already anticipating the assault that comes with such people. Suddenly, she is small again and she hates that she still shakes even after so many years.

She leaps off her bed, grabs her coat, and runs out of the door as fast as she can, but still careful to make no sound. Her skin is stretched and she is vibrating, the room suddenly too small to hold her. Her heart is racing from the all-too-familiar terror, and everything is just… cold.

She doesn’t realize where she is heading to the rooftop until she sees the stars, and it is only when she is sure she is hidden in the shadows of the chimney that she breathes easily again.

Blake is still for a long moment. And then slowly, she brings up her hands to touch her ears. The fur is soft, but underneath them, she can still feel all the tiny wounds that they have accumulated over the years, and each one weighs on her shoulders now - each story of brutality another reason to hide. It won’t even take that much. Gambol Shroud’s ribbon is still on her wrist, and she can learn to live with the discomfort again. Mind made up, she closes her eyes and unravels the ribbon from her wrist.

For the first time in so many months now, Blake binds her ears again.

She still knows the method by heart, and her hands move with the kind of precision gained only by endless practice. She loses herself into the texture of the cloth and the world falls away until all she is is the pinch of the ribbon and the stiffness of her ears. The pain is familiar in all the ways she hates, but already, her terror is easing - more and more comfort bubbling in her gut the tighter she wraps her ears.

“Blake? What are you-”

Yang’s voice jolts her awake, and she scrambles to stand. Yang stills her with a hang on her shoulder, however, and she herself slides down to sit beside Blake. Blake seeks her eyes, but Yang’s, wide and pained, are trained on her bow, seemingly magnetized. Her stomach drops and there is an emptiness in her chest that is disturbed only by the tiny tingles of shame at hiding again.

“I -”

“Does it hurt? Hiding them all the time?” Yang’s voice breaks the silence of the night, cracking from barely concealed emotion. Whether it is grief or anger, Blake could no longer tell. 

She raises her arm - her human one - as if to touch her bow but her fingers only hover, respectful if the boundaries the bow still represents. Blake knows that she isn’t just asking about the pinching of bow or the tenderness of her ears. But the words are lodged in her throat and she can’t bring herself to answer.

__Yes__ , she thinks. __Hiding will never not hurt__.

Still, Yang’s fingers are only inches away from her ears. Her eyes are troubled but kind, and her fingers twitch as if she’s barely able to hold them away. There is a static between them that crackles and rages every time they move, and the distance hurts even as closeness terrifies Blake more than she ever believed was possible.

Yang is so still now, and in the darkness of Atlas, her fire is muted in ways that seemed impossible in the sun. Her eyes though glow still, bright and warm even as the snow falls around them. Blake can no longer read Yang’s eyes as well as she used to, but the tenderness in them tonight is unmistakable, and Blake’s heart is racing again - but this time, it is no longer fear that sets the beat.

In a fit of boldness, that surprises even herself, she unties the bow in one fluid motion and presses her ear on Yang’s palm. She closes her eyes and determinedly settles more closely against Yang even as bile rises from her stomach. Human hands have never touched her ears kindly and the scars under her fur all have stories to tell.

But Yang’s hand is as warm as her eyes, and they are even gentler than Blake ever dared to hope for. Her fingers stroke the furry little ear as if she’s afraid the slightest movement will tear them apart, and it takes only one other shuddering breath before the knot of fear in her gut disappears entirely. For the first time since arriving in Atlas, Blake’s breaths do not feel like knives in her lungs. The longer Yang strokes her ear, the looser her body becomes until, at long last, she is no longer suffocating in her own skin.

“They don’t anymore,” she whispers. “I don’t have to hide them anymore.”

Yang is safety too.

It is to a peck one of her bigger wounds that Blake finally opens her eyes, and the moment she catches Yang’s gaze, it felt as if the world righted herself at last. The former tenderness in her eyes had morphed into the kind of love Blake had long since stopped believing she deserved. They shine with promises Blake hesitates to acknowledge for fear of a universe that had always fickle - if not downright unkind - to them.

But the hope bubbles in her chest anyway, and she hopes Yang can see at least that glimmer in her eyes even as the words catch in her throat.

When their lips finally meet, Blake doesn’t know who moved forward first. And it stops mattering the instant after. Yang’s lips are gentle and soft, and they kiss Blake as if she is the greatest treasure the world has to offer. Yang tastes of sweetness and dreams, and when they finally part for breath, there is an awed look in her eyes as if Blake gifted her the world.

__Absurd__ , she thinks. As if a world can ever exist without Yang as the core of her universe.

__I love you__  Blake wants to whisper.

Maybe one day she will be brave enough.


End file.
